Page 64 of The Other Brother
“Nah, I don’t want to get in the way.”
“Okay.” There’s disappointment in his tone.
“Congrats on the performance though.” Have I ever said a sentence as unfulfilling as that one? That is such a pale imitation of what I really want to say.
“Thanks.” He pauses, and there’s a chatter of conversation in the background. I can make out Kate’s voice moaning about the fact she’s not allowed to have any of the champagne.
“Talk later?” he says.
“Yeah, later.”
Chapter17
The entire drive home, all I can think about is Cody. Cody, who’s now at some fancy restaurant celebrating with his family and friends. I want to be there with him desperately. Instead, I’m skulking home like I’m the deranged uncle you stash in the attic when polite company arrives.
I stalk into the house and stuff the keys back on the hook with more force than necessary.
“Where did you have to go in such a hurry?” Mum asks as she pads into the kitchen. She’s wearing tiger print pajamas, her reading glasses perched on her head.
I’m not in the mood to lie. I’m not in the mood to dance around the sharp eggshells that remain from Mum and Frank’s marriage, trying not to shred my flesh. I want to stomp and stamp all over those frigging delicate eggshells.
“I went to Cody’s concert.”
“Cody’s concert?” Mum repeats the words like they’re some foreign language.
“Yeah, he was playing a concert at the Royal Theatre. He wanted me there.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “Why did he want you there?”
“I’ve told you before. We’re friends.”
The wordfriendsfeels heavy tonight. It sinks to the floor the moment it falls off my tongue.
“Oh, okay.” Her tone contradicts her words, a reminder that me hanging out with her ex-husband’s son is actually not on her okay list.
I move past her, thumping up the stairs.
In my room I sit hunched over on my bed, my head in my hands. I want to message Cody so badly. Just to have him reply, have one of those Cody messages, a fraction of Cody’s thoughts zooming back at me.
I grab my phone out of my pocket. I turn it over, staring at it like it contains the answer.
In the end I put my phone on my bedside table. I’m not going to interrupt his celebration. I want Cody to bask in the admiration for all his hard work and talent, not remember all the messed up factors that surround our friendship.
I strip off my pants and shirt and climb under the duvet. Staring at the ceiling, thoughts of Cody continue to circulate in my brain. How good he looked in a tuxedo. The way he smiled when he got the standing ovation. They’re nice thoughts to drift off to sleep to.
I stir when my phone buzzes.
Because waking up isn’t really my thing, I’m still fumbling for my phone when it lights up again with my second reminder. One hand closes around my phone. I rub my eyes with my other hand, clearing them enough to focus on the screen.
The message is from Cody.
you awake
Adrenaline surges through me, and I almost drop my phone in my haste to answer.
am now
shit sorry
